


Hello Sweetie

by ViperVocals



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Castiel in the Bunker, Consensual Sex, Demons, F/M, Hurt Dean, Non-Consensual Blow Jobs, Non-Consensual Bondage, Non-Consensual Groping, Non-Consensual Kissing, Non-Consensual Oral Sex, Non-Consensual Voyeurism, Protective Sam Winchester, Sex in the Impala, Smut, non-con
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-26
Updated: 2017-09-10
Packaged: 2018-11-18 21:36:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 12
Words: 17,843
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11299308
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ViperVocals/pseuds/ViperVocals
Summary: The Winchesters are no strangers to dealing with demons, but when Dean is captured by one, it sets off a chain of events that leave them broken and confused.  This is a challenge neither brother ever thought they would have to face, much less learn how to recover from. *COMPLETE*





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Chapters will be posted weekly. *now complete* Thoughts and comments are welcomed.
> 
> A big thank you goes to EllenOfOz for her hard work painstakingly editing my original draft, CBFirestarter for helping with the summary, and to my peeps in the Mega Coven for all their kind words of encouragement. I wouldn't have done this without you.

Dean groggily opened his eyes. He realized he was pinned to the cold dusty floor of what looked like an abandoned warehouse. He turned his head and looked at the restraints binding his wrists. Trying to get his feet under him, he found, was useless. He couldn't do much more than scrape the toes of his boots against the ground due to the tightness of the ropes on his ankles.

"Shit." he said on an exhale, blowing dust and dirt up into the air. His mind began to assemble fragmented pieces of memories, and suddenly he was wide awake. He was trying to figure out where he was from what he could see around him, when a pair of feminine legs stepped into his line of sight.

"Hello, Sweetie." The voice was sensual but predatory.

She squatted down when she spoke and he was able to get a glance at the rest of her. Auburn hair, curly almost to the point of frizzy. An oval face with a smiling mouth and a curvy body that filled out her dark clothing quite pleasingly to Dean's eye. Blinking her eyes from black and then to normal, she spoke again "I do hope you're comfortable."

"Oh yeah. Face down on concrete is my preferred recreational position" he retorted.

Her hand was warm as she laid it against the back of his neck. He flinched and she chuckled, "Easy Dean. I'm not going to hurt you."

"Then what are we doing here?" he asked

She stood, taking a slight step back out of his peripheral vision. As uneasiness started to settle into his gut, Dean began to pull at the ropes holding him hostage.

With a swift motion, the woman swung a leg over Dean. He felt her lower herself onto his back and her thighs settled snugly on either side of his body as she straddled him. Leaning forward, she ran a gentle hand through his short cropped hair, tugging slightly when she reached his scalp so that he was forced to lift his head up. Shifting slightly, so that her lips were pressed to his ear, she whispered "Oh, I'm going to have some fun with you." Her breath was hot against his chilled skin and sent a shiver up his spine. 

"Is that supposed to scare me?"

"Oh Dean," she said throatily, "I'm not trying to scare you. I'm trying to confuse you." Dean felt her teeth clamp tight on his earlobe, followed quickly by her soft lips. He involuntarily gasped and pulled, again, against his restraints. 

"Ok. Well, that seems to be working, because I haven't the foggiest idea as to what is going on here."

Releasing his hair, she pulled away from him, scooting back and kneeling behind him. Wedging her knees behind Dean's thighs, she was able to push forward and force his thighs apart, though he didn't have much play against the ropes. Dean groaned. She pushed again, increasing the pressure and the space between his thighs. He balled his fists as he felt his breath quicken. He didn't know what to think, torn between repulsion and some weird pleasure. Her knees lingered between his thighs for a moment longer, then the pressure disappeared and she was straddling him again, caressing his neck and shoulders.

"You want to know why?" she asked. "Because it's fun. You have so many weak spots, there's almost too many to pick from." She sank her fingers into his broad shoulders and began to knead the muscles there. He was tense, primed for fight or flight. "Your brother... your friends... your car..."

"Well thanks for the psych eval. And the massage." Dean replied, flashing his best rakish grin. All the while his mind was racing, trying to figure out what her game might be. 

In answer, she leaned over and ran her tongue along the outside of his exposed ear. "You are mouth watering, Dean." she whispered.

"Thank you. I have to say this is the most interesting hostage situation I've ever been in." 

Ignoring his words, she continued "All that sexiness, that face, that body, wrapped up in the damage of that psyche. This is going to be almost as fun as unwrapping a birthday present." She pushed her fingers through his hair once more, sliding them down his neck to his shoulders and further still to his sides, molding his shirt to his body. He made a grunting sound and tried to pull free.

"Maybe I'm not as damaged as you think I am "

"Oh I have a suspicion that you are MORE damaged than I think you are." The hands traced up and around his front to his chest and suddenly she was leaning against his back and he felt the press of her breasts against him. He closed his eyes and tipped his head back slightly and a tremor ran through his body. When he felt her molding her body to his, a foreboding rose up in him. Impotently, he tried to shift his position, but was unable to do so. 

"Let me go, you bitch!" he bit out vehemently. 

Pleased at the response she was able to draw out of him she said "Ah, there it is. Now that's more like it. You just don’t know what to think do you?" she asked, a smile curving one corner of her shapely mouth. "You hate me. Hate everything about what I am and yet…" Her voice dropped into a sexy purr. "You want me. You can't help but want me. You know you do. I know you do." Sitting up, she resumed the slow caressing movements of her hands. "And I know something else about you too. You hate to be confined, tied up."

"Oh, I don't know. In the right situation, with the right girl…" Dean quipped. 

"No. Admit it, Dean. You hate it. To be helpless. Powerless. Oh how you hate it SO much." She moved between his thighs again, leaning forward to place a hand on the curve of Dean's ass. He flinched from her touch. She moved her hand down between his legs. He sucked in a hissing breath and tried to pull away, but he was caught. She watched the color rise to his cheeks, his jaws tense, the muscles of his thighs contract. He bit his lower lip and closed his eyes. "Oh, poor Dean." she purred, exploring and caressing him with both her hands now.

Dean pressed his cheek against the concrete. He wanted out.

There was a bang and a shout from somewhere in the distance. They both flinched at the unexpected loudness of it. Leaning forward to whisper in his ear she said "I think your cavalry is here. Later lover." 

Instantly her weight was gone from his body and he was alone in the room. A second later, muffled footsteps sounded in the hallway and he heard a shout of "Dean?"

"Sam! In here!" Dean cried. 

Sam's tall form knelt beside him a minute later. One of Sam's large hands gripped the back of his shirt collar. "Hey. You all right?" 

"Yes. Dean grunted "Just get me out of this, will ya?" Sam set to removing Dean's wrists and ankles from his bonds. When he felt the ropes drop, he pulled himself to his feet, rubbing his wrists. 

"What happened?" Sam asked.

"Come on. Let’s get out of this hell hole. I'll tell you in the car." Dean refused to look at the floor where he'd been tied and strode off towards the exit.


	2. Chapter 2

"Dean, what is wrong with you?"

Dean's green eyes slowly came into focus on his brother. "Huh? Nothing"

"Come on," Sam said, turning toward Dean slightly in the front seat of the Impala. "You've been acting weird ever since last night. What's going on?"

"Nothing is going on, Sam. I'm fine."

Sam shook his head ruefully, "That demon did something to you."

Dean got a confused look on his face and felt his hackles rise "Look, we've been over this already. I woke up tied to the floor. When you showed up, Demon Chick disappeared."

Sam raised an eyebrow "And?"

"And what?" Dean shrugged, keeping his eyes on the road.

"She didn’t talk to you? She didn't lay a finger on you? Nothing?"

Dean raised an eyebrow. "I didn't saw she didn't TOUCH me."

Sam looked confused. "Yes you did."

"No, I said she didn't HURT me."

His younger brother blinked, wrinkled his nose. "Huh?"

Taking pity on Sam, Dean sighed heavily and answered "Look. She touched me plenty. And she talked. Good God, did she talk. But it was bullshit. Typical manipulative whore bullshit."

Sam sat back in his seat, his mouth opening and closing a few times as he processed what Dean had just said. When Dean glanced in his direction, the look of apprehension on his face was almost comical. "Dean, she didn't…"

"Didn't what?"

"You know…?"

"What?" It took Dean a moment to register what his brother was thinking and suddenly his anxious expression made sense. "No! God, no! I was tied face down for crying out loud!"

"It can happen to men too, you know."

Dean tried on a cocky smile, "Can't rape the willing."

"That's… not… funny, Dean."

Dean rolled his eyes. "Nothing happened Sammy. Good grief, why do you have to turn this into something creepy?"

"Because it IS creepy! Being tied down and sexually assaulted, by a demon no less - "

"Jesus Sam. You're making it out to be some big thing! I wasn't… assaulted. Just… groped a little."

"GROPED?" Sam threw up his hands. "Were you a willing participant in this?"

Dean, thinking, pursed his lips. "Ah… No. Not really."

"What you're describing is sexual assault, Dean."

"Oh my God, Sam!" Trying to keep his eyes on the road and glare at Sam at the same time, Dean responded "Look, I've got A LOT of problems in my life. But being groped by a hot chick, isn’t one of them."

Sam snorted. "It's not about just that… It's about context." His expression turned earnest. "Look, she was messing with you. Forcing you to participate in something that is normally enjoyable, but twisting it into something… different. Making you feel helpless or powerless. It's clearly  
bothering you."

"Gee, thanks Dr. Phil."

Sam grunted and ran his fingers through his shaggy brown hair. "See? This is what I mean." His brows knit together in frustration. "I can't help you! "

Dean suddenly pulled the wheel sharply to the side, throwing gravel into the air as the Impala fishtailed onto the side of the road. Getting out of the car and slamming the door, Sam watched as Dean paced a few feet in either direction. Getting out of the car and leaning over the roof Sam said "Dean. You've got to let me help. We can fix this."

Dean turned on him suddenly. "Maybe I don't need to be FIXED Sammy!" The yell was vehement, as if he'd been holding something back for a while. "Maybe this is me!" He pounded on his chest. Maybe I'm so broken… so damaged… I don’t know. Maybe this is just my personality. How I relate. Maybe it's just what I've got to do to survive!" His voice broke and he turned his head.

Sam took a physical step back from the intensity of Dean's tirade. His bafflement at the angry onslaught quickly gave way to compassion. "Dean," he said quietly "Man… you always hold everything in. I just want to help… "

Dean looked at Sam's expression, uncertain about why his anger was being met with gentleness. It threw him off balance, made him feel oddly vulnerable. Somehow the emotion in Sam caused Dean to reign in his own. His face became stoic, the green eyes dispassionate. He swallowed hard and gave a small, almost imperceptible nod. "I'm ok. he said. "I'm fine."

Sam knew he wasn't all right, but he could tell by Dean's face that he wasn't going to talk about it. "Ok. Fine. Look, all I'm going to say is… It's not your fault."

Dean raised an eyebrow. "What isn't my fault, Sammy?"

"Whatever happened to you. Whatever she did to you… said to you - it's not your fault."

Dean smirked a little. "Course it is. Handsome guy like me… I mean who would be able to resist, you know?"

Sam closed his eyes in defeat. "Right." he muttered, squeezing the bridge of his nose with his fingers. "Of course." He dropped his hands to his side and looked at Dean. "Well, I'm sorry it had to happen to you."

"I told you. It's fine."

"I'm still sorry." Sam's expression was so honest. So understanding. So utterly genuine, that Dean felt a shadow of pain swell in him at the intimacy of the moment.

"Yeah." Pausing a moment with his hand on the car door handle, Dean's gaze turned inward. "I'm sorry too." He opened the door and got into the car, signaling that the conversation was over.


	3. Chapter 3

Dean was humming. Why not? It had been a good week. Their previous case had been closed with only a minimum of casualties, Cas had his grace back and that cute little thing in the Gas-n-Sip had left her number on his receipt. Just in case, she had said. He smiled. 

Walking to the car he reached into his pocket to grab his keys. When he stopped at the door he paused after unlocking it just to listen. Did he actually hear something or was he just getting paranoid? Before he could turn around to see if he could catch a glimpse of what had spooked him, pain exploded in his head and the world went black. 

***

The first thing Dean realized after waking was that he was moving. Looking around himself, despite the monster of a headache he had, he realized he was in the back seat of a car. His car. Also, he was tied up. Arms behind his back. Feet together. "What the hell?"

At the sound of his voice, the driver looked back at him in the rear view mirror and smiled. "Hello Sweetie" she purred. 

Moments later she was pulling off the side of the road. There were no street lights or signs as far as Dean could see. No way for him to figure out where he was. The woman who got out of the car was gorgeous. Tall, with an athletic build and blonde hair. She opened the car door and Dean kicked out with his feet, hoping to land a foot on her chest or face; anything to give him room to maneuver out of the vehicle and onto his feet. She dodged his feeble attempt to catch her off guard, as if she had expected it. 

"Now, now. Is that any way to treat an old friend? I thought we had fun together last time. Or, at least I did, before we were so rudely interrupted. Does your brother always have such great timing?" she said as she blinked. Quickly her eyes went from blue to black and then to blue again.

"Son of a bitch" Dean breathed. "What? Did I miss my follow up psych appointment? Funny. I don't remember making one."

"Nope. You're right on time." she replied. Stepping back slightly she said "So what do you think of the new model? They say blondes have more fun, so when I found this little gem, I just knew I had to see if it was true or not. And you were the first person I thought of when I found time to take her out for a test drive."

"Well, unfortunately lady, you have already done way too much test driving for one night."

"Huh" she chuckled as she made her way into the backseat and straddled Dean. "Don't like anyone else touching your baby, hm?" she asked. Don’t like anyone else in the driver seat? Makes you feel… powerless? Maybe? If so, I bet you are just loving being trussed up like a turkey ready for Thanksgiving dinner, aren't you?" She laughed. 

"I don't know what you're playing at lady, but when I get out of here, I am going to enjoy hunting you down and sending you straight back to hell where you belong."

"Let's not get ahead of ourselves just yet. I have big plans you Dean. Yummy plans, if I do say so myself."

The woman began to run her hands across Dean's chest and stomach, scratching him with her nails through his grey tee shirt. "I could just eat you up" she said. She paused her hands at his belt, as if considering something, then moved on to his front jeans pockets. "Ah. I knew you had it on you somewhere. Let's just silence this so there won't be any more unscheduled interruptions." She leaned forward, putting one hand on Dean's chest and with the other reached into his front pocket.

Dean held himself as still as possible. Not knowing what she was after, only that he was at her mercy until he could figure a way out of this predicament. Pulling out his phone, she turned her attention to the screen. Fiddling with it for a few seconds, she tossed it onto the front seat, well out of reach. "Now, where were we? That's right. I was having fun and you were confused. Sound familiar?"

"I am not confused. You need to get the hell off of me and out of my car." Dean said with as much venom as he could muster.

"Oh come now, Dean. Don't tell me you haven't thought about that night. I know I have." she purred as she slipped a hand between them to caress Dean through his jeans.

"Nope. Haven’t got a clue what you're talking about. But you know, when you meet as many sad and lonely women as I do, they tend to run together after a while."

The woman chuckled. "Oh Dean. You know, your mouth is saying one thing, but your body..." at this she rocked her hips, grinding down onto his groin, and leaned forward against his chest "is telling me something different." Their lips were only a breath apart and she felt, more than heard, Dean's moan as she allowed her body to mold to his. "You do remember." she whispered. "I'm flattered." 

He was staring at her lips in what seemed to be utter fascination. Taking it as an invitation she closed the scant distance separating them. His lips were full and warm but unresponsive. He tried to moved his head away but still, she pressed against him, rocking and moaning low in her throat. She slipped her hands under his shirt and raked his chest with her nails, scoring his skin. He gasped involuntarily at the combined sensations of pleasure and pain. She took the opportunity to sweep her tongue in his mouth. 

This sudden intrusion seemed to break whatever spell Dean had been under, and he bit down on her tongue, hoping to draw blood. She yelled, pulled back and slapped him across the face, knocking his head back against the door frame and causing bright white lights to explode behind his eyes. When he opened his eyes again, the woman was gingerly touching her tongue with her finger, trying to calculate how much, if any, damage had been done. 

"I didn't know you liked to play rough. Though I should have guessed it." She said. There was a tinge of anger coloring her words, but also a breathless excitement.

"Yeah, well, don’t knock it 'til you've tried it, I guess" Dean said hoarsely as he shook his head to try to clear it.

"Mmmmm… Has Dean been a bad boy? Does he need someone to teach him a lesson? Well here's one you won’t soon forget." Laughing, the woman reached forward and grabbed Dean roughly by the hair and pulled his head back at an angle. Leaning forward again she began to kiss, lick, suck and bite him. Starting with the his earlobe and traveling to his shirt collar, rocking and grinding and moaning the whole time. Dean's breath started to come in short gasps of air as she slipped her hand under his shirt again and found one of his now hardened nipples with her fingers, rolling and pinching it, alternating between gentle and harsh. Breaking their contact only long enough to roughly push his shirt up to his neck, exposing his chest, she latched on to his other nipple with her mouth, licking, sucking and biting it to compliment the coarse treatment he was getting from her fingers.

Dean's mind was a blur. His body awash in sensations. His mind cried out that this was wrong. He didn't want this. But the only sound that escaped his throat was a guttural groan. He bucked his hips in protest, forced his mouth to say "No," but either the woman wasn't listening or didn't care. She clenched her teeth around his nipple and sucked in a breath of cold air just to breathe warmth out as she laughed. "Oh Dean" she said smiling, lips still touching his chest, "we're going to have to get you a safe word."

Suddenly she stopped. Bright lights illuminated the car through the back window. Smiling as she looked down at him she said, "Looks like your cavalry is here. Later lover." and disappeared. 

Moments later Dean could hear another car door slam and boots crunching gravel at the side of the road. Panting, feeling confused and embarrassed to be found in this condition, for more than one reason, he rolled himself onto his side, trying to push his shirt down his chest to hide the welts he could feel forming, along with the tightness of his jeans. 

"Dean!? Are you in there?"

Looking up at the sound of his brother's voice, he realized the windows of the car were all foggy. He was mortified at what his brother would think and didn’t want Sam to see him like this, trussed up like a turkey and caught panting like a teenager at his first make out session in the back of his car. But there was no chance of that not happening now, as Sam pulled the driver's door of the Impala open and leaned in to pick up Dean's phone from the front seat. Seeing movement Sam whipped his head around to look in the back of the car. The relief was evident on his face as he realized that Dean was there and in one piece. 

"Dean!" Sam exclaimed as he got out of the car and rushed to the back passenger door. 

"Yeah Sam. I'm here," Dean groaned as Sam opened the door at his feet. "I'm ok but I'll be better when you get me out of here and untied."

Sam pulled Dean into a sitting position and turned him so he could get at the ropes binding his hands and feet. With a few quick slices of his pocket knife Sam was able to free his older brother. 

"Move Sammy. Let me out." 

Watching his brother with worried eyes, Sam moved away from the car to let Dean exit the vehicle. "Dean, what happened?"

Rubbing his wrists and stomping his feet in an attempt to get the blood flowing to his extremities, Dean looked around. He was trying to gather his jumbled thoughts and not look at Sam. He just knew that if he let Sammy look him in the eye, he would know. He would know what happened here and would be appalled.

"Where the hell are we?" Dean asked. 

"Um. The middle of nowhere about 20 minutes from the bunker." Sam answered. "Do you know how you got here?"

"Well I would assume I was driven here by the bitch that knocked me out." he replied, reaching up to gently check if a lump was forming on the back of his head. He looked at his hand and saw blood on his fingers. "Wait. 20 minutes from the bunker? How did you find me? How did you even know to look for me?"

Sam, looking confused, responded "I got your text. All it said was 'help' and you didn't answer when I called, so I had to ping your GPS to find you."

"I didn't text you" Dean said. 

"Are you sure you're ok? You sound like you might have some memory loss too. You… might need to… see a… doctor…" Sam's statements had trailed off into phrases that started to sound like questions the more he talked. Looking around with a puzzled expression, Sam asked "Dean. How did you text me if you were tied up in the back seat when I found you and your phone was in the front seat?"

"Man. That's what I have been trying to say. I. Didn’t. Text. You. I don't know who…" Dean stared at him dumbfounded as the sentence died in his throat. He hadn’t texted Sam. He hadn't even been able to touch his phone. The only person that had since he had left the store was the demon. "That bitch." Dean breathed. "That lying, conniving fucking whore bitch demon!" his voice getting louder and angrier with every word spoken.

"What? Who?" Sam asked confused.

Sam's words snapped Dean's attention back to him. He had forgotten his brother was standing there when he had spoken aloud. Now, he was going to have to explain what had happened. Even though he wasn't sure himself what the hell had just gone on. "I don’t know." Dean said resignedly. 

"What do you mean you don’t know. You just said "that bitch" like you knew exactly who did this."

"I said I don’t know Sammy and I don’t. She didn’t look like the last time and I didn’t have a chance to stop and ask for a name, ok?!"

"Wait a minute. Didn't look like the last time? You mean this is the same demon from a couple of months ago? The one that tied you down in that abandoned warehouse and assaulted you? That demon?"

"Jesus Christ Sam! Why don't you yell it out a little louder next time. I don't think the people in the next town over heard you."

"Dean. There's no one around except for me. No one knows except for me. There's nothing to be ashamed about. You didn’t ask for this. Did you?"

"Yeah Sam. That's right. My sex life is so boring that I thought I'd spice things up with a demon. Hey, worked for my kid brother, why not try it myself, you know. And not only that I asked her to bash my skull in, kidnap me, tie me up in the back seat of my own car and then leave me for my brother to find after she had her fun working me over. That's exactly what I did."

The silence was deafening. 

Dean knew as soon as he stopped shouting and took a breath that he had screwed up. He watched helplessly as expressions flashed across Sam's face. Shock and anger mainly, but others too fleeting to catch.

"Sam - " 

"No." Sam interrupted.

"I didn't mean - "

"No, Dean." Sam held a hand up to silence him. Sam lowered his eyes to the ground. Dean stood there. Waiting for his brother to speak the condemnation he knew was coming. What he knew he deserved. When Sam raised his eyes to look at Dean, there was hurt and a shimmer of tears in them. He swallowed and drew in a shaky breath. "I'll see you at the bunker." was all he said. Then he turned and walked back to the car parked behind the Impala.


	4. Chapter 4

The bunker was thankfully quiet when he entered. Hoping he had waited long enough that Sam had gone to bed, he crept down the stairs and headed for his room

"Hey. Dean."

Well, guess not, Dean thought.

"Hey Sam. Listen. I'm sorry for what I said earlier ok? It was a low blow and I shouldn't have said it."

"Whatever." There was no expression on his face when he said it. 

"Uh, Ok. Well, I guess I'll go take a shower and try to get some sleep." Dean said as he turned to leave the room. "I'll see you in the morning."

"Actually, Dean, I wanted to take a look at your head. Seriously, you might have a concussion. You might even need stitches."

After everything that had happened, Dean had kind of forgotten about his head. He had a killer headache, but he figured that came from the fight and the major thinking/drinking session he had just indulged in at the bar on the way home. Dean sighed. "Fine. Let me shower first though."

Walking out of the room, Dean was concerned. Sam wasn't in a talking mood. And for the guy who always seemed to want to talk about his feelings to brush off an apology with just a 'whatever', was definitely not a good thing. Dean had hurt his brother, but he didn't know how to fix it. Deciding to take his cues from Sam and just go with the flow until things got back to normal, he stepped into the shower.

Standing there under the hot water felt good. His arm muscles were sore from being tied behind him and being laid on for so long. Well, not just his weight either. Images of red lips and dark hair flashed through his mind. Shocked, his eyes flew open. Where the hell did that come from? Looking down he saw the welts on his chest from her nails. God was he glad Sam hadn't seen them. How the hell would he explain that? How the hell was he going to explain any of it? Pulling the bar of soap down he began to lather his arms and chest. Before he knew it though, he was scrubbing harder and harder. Trying to erase the memories that continued to flood his mind. A brunette straddling his back, rubbing his ass and groin til he started to grow hard against his will. A blonde greedily sucking one nipple while pinching and caressing the other until he was lifting his hips against her. In protest? In encouragement?

The sting of soap on tender skin wrung him out of his thoughts and he realized he had almost scrubbed the top layer of skin off his arms and chest. The welts had become an angry red and hurt from the rough scrubbing. Shit. He had to get out of the shower. Get some clothes on. Let Sam look at his head, preferable after a couple of pain pills and a stiff drink to chase them with and then off to bed. All he really wanted to do was sleep.

He found Sam in the kitchen with their first aid kit spread out in front of him. "Hey." Dean said tentatively. 

"Hey. Sit down so I can take a look at your head."

Dean came around the counter and took the stool Sam indicated. Sam started combing through his hair trying to see the extent of the wound when he said "Long shower."

"Uh. Yeah. Hot water felt good. Sore muscles and all. I don't think I used it all though, if you were worried about that." 

"No. I'm good." 

Silence.

Dean was getting tense just sitting there. "Ok… So what's the verdict doc?" he asked, trying to lighten the mood in the room. 

Sam was matter-of-fact with his response. "I think you need stitches." 

Shrugging away from his brother Dean replied "No. No way. I'm good. You know they would probably want to do staples because of my hard head and then there would be shaving involved - So just no. I'll deal." 

Sounding exasperated, Sam tried again to reason with Dean, "The wound isn't too deep but it's pretty long and might get infected." 

"No, Sam. I'm serious. I'm just going to take two and see you in the morning. "

Walking around the table to put the first aid supplies away, Sam continued. "I'm serious too Dean. If you won't go get looked at then at least call Cas. He can heal you and we can both get a good night's sleep. I've got a feeling we're going to need it to track this demon down. I certainly can't seem to find anything on her. Hell, I don't even know where to start since we don't even have a name."

"Wait. You've been trying to do research on this demon? Why?"

Looking at Dean like he was worried his head injury was worse than he had thought, Sam replied "Uh, to track her down and I don’t know, send her back to hell where she came from. She obviously has it out for you Dean, and with all the other crap we have going on in our lives, on a daily basis, we don't need to have this hanging over our heads too."

Dean could feel the anger building inside him. "Our heads, huh? Our heads?" 

"Yes Dean. Our heads. We're in this together. Or at least I thought we were…"

At this, Dean jumped to his feet, almost overturning the table in his haste to stand. After pacing back and forth a few moments, trying to get his erratic breathing back under control, he was able to respond to his brother. "Yes. Fine. Ok. We're in this together. What happens to one of us affects the other, I get it. And you're right. We don’t need this right now. But I don't want Cas in on this. He doesn't need to…"

"Need to what, Dean? He doesn't need to know?"

"Right. He doesn't need to know about… what happened. I made a mistake. Or a couple of them, obviously, and someone else got the upper hand. My head will be fine in a couple of days. No need to bother him. He's probably got… better things to do."

"Dean, what is wrong with you? We call Cas all the time, for less important shit than this, actually. Why don't you want Cas…" Sam's voiced trailed off, comprehension dawning on his face. "Are you… ashamed, Dean? Is that what this is about?"

"What? No!"

"You know this isn't your fault, right?"

"What? Wrong time, wrong place? Twice? Right."

"You've got to stop beating yourself up over this. I've said it before, and I'll keep saying it until you get it through your head. This wasn't your fault. You didn't do anything wrong. Hell, you didn't DO anything anyway, how could you be wrong?"

Standing with one hand on his hip, the other massaging his forehead, Dean thought about his reaction to the demon and her machinations. Did he do something? Technically he had been unable to even hardly move, but hadn't he… enjoyed it a little? NO. Not at all. Not really. But his body had reacted... 

"Right?" Sam's question, pulled him out of his thoughts and sighing he dropped his hand from his face. 

"Right."

"Fine. Ok. Then call Cas and let him heal you so we can go to bed."

Closing his eyes on a resigned exhale, Dean said "Cas. I'm tired and I have a headache and I just want to go to bed. So, to make my brother happy would you please drop whatever it is that you're doing and come down here and fix this?" Opening one eye, Dean looked around expectantly. "See? I told you. He's got better things to do right now than to drop everything to come running when we call." Hearing footsteps in the hall, Sam shot him an 'I-told-you-so' look, to which Dean just rolled his eyes. 

Walking into the kitchen, Cas greeted the boys. "Hello Sam. Dean. What is it that I need to correct?"

"We don't really need anything 'fixed' per se, but Dean was attacked by a demon tonight and I think he might have a concussion and needs stitches, but he doesn't agree. I think he's afraid they'll shave his head." Sam said smirking. "Would you mind checking him out?"

"Of course not." Stretching out his hand, Cas touched Dean on the forehead with two fingers. Almost instantly Dean's headache evaporated and the slight blurriness to his vision that he didn’t even realize he had was gone. "You were right Sam." Cas said. "He had a mild concussion. I was also able to heal the welts on his chest."

"Thanks Cas. Man. That feels so much better. Night guys." Dean said, turning to go, in an attempt to stop the questions before they started. 

"Wait!" Sam called. "Welts? What welts?" Sam asked, looking to Cas for more information. 

"He had welts on his chest. Looked to be scratches of some kind. But human, not animal." Cas answered.

"Dean, what the hell happened tonight?" Sam asked incredulously. 

Dean gave Sam a murderous look and nodded his head in Cas's direction, obviously trying to get Sam to shut up before Cas got too interested and Dean had to start answering some uncomfortable questions. When he realized that Cas was also looking at him in bewilderment, he realized that he wasn't going to be able to get out of this room without at least some sort of an explanation.

"Look. It's no big deal. She mouthed off like she did last time, lording it over me that I was at her mercy, trussed up like a… turkey. She felt me up and scratched me. End of story."

Both men stood looking at Dean with open mouth shock. Well Sam did, Cas just seemed confused.

"Damn it!" Dean yelled, his frustrations finally exploding out of him. Sam and Cas flinched at his words. Cas probably at the profanity and Sam at the vehement tone. "How many times do I have to say it's not a big deal. It's a demon. Plain and simple. This one just happens to get it's rocks off WAY differently than anything that we're used to but it's no worse that any of the other shit we've seen or been through at this point, ok?" 

"Dean -" Sam said quietly. "This is different, man. Yeah, we've seen people ripped to shreds and possessed and all that. But this IS different. This demon is trying to screw with your head. Turning you inside out using sex." Sam shot Cas a strained look. 

"What? Say it."

Sam paused a moment, trying to collect his thoughts and ask a question that had been haunting him since he found Dean in the back of the car "Dean. Was she… Was she able to… get you… aroused?"

"Fuck." Dean said to himself, shaking his head.

"Did she?"

"Fine! Yes! So what!? You still think this is what I wanted don't you?"

"NO! Dean! God, no! All I'm saying is that she's gotten in your head. You’re so messed up right now you're not thinking straight. I think you need to talk to someone."

"Are you out of your mind? Who the hell do you think I should talk to? My shrink? The police? Oh yes, Officer, I want to report an "assault". Well, actually I guess you could say two assaults since they were done on different days, in different places by two different CHICKS, but they were actually being possessed by the same demon that seems to have the hots for me. Yes. That's rich. They'd laugh themselves silly over that one. Right after they called to have me locked up in a padded room."

"Dean-" Cas started.

"NO!" Dean interrupted. "It's not a problem. Just a single demon."

"Dean. This demon has kidnapped and assaulted you. TWICE! Out of the blue and for no reason we can figure out. We don't know what she's up to, but we need to figure it out before she tries something again."

"It's a demon." Dean retorted ruefully. "They don’t need any other reason."

Cas, who had been quietly watching and listening to this exchange finally spoke. "Dean. I think you need to tell me what is going on here. I feel I am not getting the complete story."

"You know what? No. I'm done talking about this. There is no more story to tell. It's been a really long, really shitty day and I am going to bed. "


	5. Chapter 5

Dean was glad Sam hadn't pushed too hard. He could see the sideways glances shot in his direction when Sam didn't think he could, or the silent communication that Sam and Cas seemed to be having sometimes. When they ran out of information and leads to track down though, and there were no more kidnappings (attempted or otherwise) they decided to shelve the problem, for now. If Dean seemed a little jumpy from time to time or a bit more cautious than usual, no one seemed to mention it. Dean didn't think he was doing anything cowardly but he surely wasn't going to take the chance to be ambushed again. No more splitting up during cases, no more late night beer runs by himself. He was a hunter, so he was always a little more aware of his surroundings than most people, but he had allowed himself to grow arrogant, complacent even. This last attack had just reminded him that he could never let his guard down.

Unfortunately, the constant vigilance and hyperawareness was exhausting. The only place he felt secure was the bunker, and being on the road hunting monsters meant that there were long stretches of time where he couldn't fully relax. He found himself jerking awake at night at the slightest noise in their hotel rooms, gun or knife at the ready. He didn't think Sam noticed, or hoped he didn’t notice anyway. If he did, he hadn't said anything. 

The days stretched into weeks, then months and somewhere along the way Dean realized things were better. Not all the way back to normal, but better. Well, as back to normal as could be expected with Sam worried and Dean not talking. But at least they didn't feel like they were tip-toeing around each other anymore. They had even managed to relax and laugh during some down time between cases, in the bunker, of course.

And now they were on the road again. Another case, another town, another hotel room.

"Ah Sammy," Dean sighed as he opened the door to their hotel room. "I have no idea what's going on here."

Sam scowled in frustration as he entered the room behind Dean, putting his computer bag on the small table. "I know. This is probably one of the weirdest ones we've had in a while. It just isn't adding up. I'm not sure there is a case here. Not for us, anyway."

"Right?!" Dean replied, sitting on the edge of the bed closest to him. "Three people in three days have disappeared one night and shown up the next morning with their throats  
slit. The news is saying a serial killer and with zero leads on our end, I'm starting to think that too."

"Maybe. Something just feels off here though, you know? Like we're missing something."

"Well, I'm starving and ready to get out of this monkey suit. What do you say we change and grab a bite to eat at that diner we passed earlier? Maybe we can talk to some of the locals and catch some town gossip that isn't making it into the news or the police reports."

"Good idea."

***

Walking into the diner, that was surprisingly busy, the boys found an empty booth in the back and sat down. Moments later a red headed waitress walked up and addressed Dean. "Hello Sweetie. What can I get for you?" 

Dean, startled, looked up sharply at the smiling woman. "What'd you say?"

"Do you know what you want to order? Or do you need a few minutes?" Stumbling for words, Dean answered "Uh. Um. Give us a minute."

"Menus are on the table. Holler when you're ready," she replied and walked off. 

Dean turned to look at Sam with a strained expression on his face.

"You ok? What was that about?" Sam asked, perplexed. 

"I don't know. But… she called me... Sweetie," Dean answered

"I think she was just being nice. Or angling for a good tip. So What?"

"It's just that… Never mind."

"Dude, I've never known you to NOT flirt back with a waitress, much less go all angry-eyes on one. What's up?"

"I just got a weird feeling when she said that. Forget it. It's nothing. I'm hungry. Let's eat."

Sam got the waitress's attention and she strolled over to their table to take their orders. 

"I'll have a house salad and a water, please." Sam said

"Cheeseburger and fries for me, thanks."

"No problem fellas." At the tinkle of the bell above the door, the waitress looked up to see who was coming in. Sighing gratefully she said, "Looks like the cavalry's here."

Quicker than a flash, Dean reached out and grabbed the woman's arm. "What did you say, lady?"

With wide eyes she stuttered, "Help. My help is here. I called him when we started getting busy."

"Dean! What are you doing?" Sam chastised. "I'm so sorry, ma'am. My partner and I have had a long day," he said to the woman. He pulled his badge out of his jacket pocket, sliding it across the table so she could see it. 

Dean, realizing he still had the woman by the arm, quickly let go and stammered out an apology, "Yeah. Sorry. Long day."

"Food will be out shortly," the waitress replied, staring at Dean as she backed away from their table.

"Dude! What the hell was that?"

Dean response was just to look at Sam like a deer caught in the headlights. 

"Dean. Talk to me. What has gotten into you?"

"It's weird Sam. Just… too weird."

"What? What's weird? Our waitress?"

Dean exhaled heavily, part sigh part groan. He didn't even want to bring this up. Not here. Not now. Not ever, actually. But this just struck him as too much of a coincidence.  
"The demon," was all he said.

"What?! There's a demon here? Where? "

"No. Not here. At least I don't think so," Dean replied. "I meant THE demon. The one who…" looking around at the packed room and lowering his voice he said "you know. Jacked me."

"What?" Sam said incredulously, "What about her? What does that have to do with our waitress?"

"Nothing. Probably. It's just what she said. It's pretty much exactly what the demon said when she grabbed me."

"You never mentioned that before."

"I hadn't really thought about it til just then. It… caught me off guard, you know? Like a flash back or something. It just kind of hit me."

"What do you think it means? Do you think that's her? That she's here? Messing with you?"

"What? No. I don't know. You asked me what my deal was and that's it."

Sam was stopped from asking his next question by another waitress approaching their table with a tray of food. As she set the plates on the table, Sam asked "Where's our waitress? She ok?"

The girl replied as she walked away "She took a break. Said she needed some air." 

"That's a little odd, isn't it?" Dean asked.

"What? That she needed a break after some random guy man handled her for being nice? No, I don't think that's odd. I would actually be surprised if we saw her again while we're here."

"Look. I'll apologize again when she comes back. It just freaked me out to hear that stuff coming out of a random chick's mouth. I was seriously expecting her to blink her eyes to black and go medieval on us right here in the diner!"

"Are you serious? Don't you think you're overreacting a little bit here? We've seen no evidence of that particular demon in months. We have seen no evidence of demons in town, in general. We didn’t even know we were coming here til we caught the story last night. How would she even know you were here?"

Scrubbing his face with his hands and propping his elbows on the table Dean sighed. "Ahhh. Maybe. Maybe I am overreacting. It was just… surprising is all. You're right. It doesn't add up. Like everything else that's going on in town."


	6. Chapter 6

Back at the hotel, Sam and Dean were combing through the police files they had picked up earlier for anything that might have been missed.

"Ok," Sam said. "So what do we know? Someone goes missing during the day and they're found with their throats slit the next morning. But there's no connection between the victims. They all have different jobs, they live in different neighborhoods, they shop at different places…. Although… they are all found in the same general vicinity. That's why the news has pegged it as a serial killer."

"Well you're the weirdo serial killer fan, does that sound right to you?"

"Not really. The escalation is too quick. The guy goes from no killing to three in three days?"

"Well, maybe things got too hot where he was before and he's just moved on to a new town."

"Could be. But I think we ought to check out the area where they were all found. See if we can find anything that might be a lead."

Dean answered his ringing phone with "Agent Benedict" and paused as the caller began to speak. 

"Yes, we know where that is. We'll be right over. Thanks for the head's up."

Ending the call, he looked at Sam and said, "Looks like someone else has gone missing."

"Who?" Sam asked.

"Our waitress from the diner."

***

Back at the diner, the boys walked around the building to where they could see police gathering.

"Ah. Agents Benedict and Speight, thanks for coming out," the deputy said as he walked toward them. "I know there isn't much to see here, but I thought I should call you."

"No. We're glad you did," Sam replied. "What do you have so far?"

"Well, it looks like she came out of the diner through the back door. Her car is parked over there. When she didn't come back after her break was over, one of her coworkers came out to check on her and found her apron on the ground. With all the craziness that's been going on here the last few days, he called us and we came out to take a look. There may be signs of a struggle, but we're not sure. This is a dirt lot the employees park in. The only things that didn't add up was the apron and her car still being here."

"What about her purse or any personal belongings? Anything missing?" Dean asked. 

"No. Her wallet and keys were in her locker inside and her car was still locked up tight when we got here. We've got it open and are searching it now, but nothing looks to be out of the ordinary."

"Thank you Deputy," Sam said shaking the man's hand. "We'll just take a look around and then get out of your hair."

"Not a problem. Take your time."

Walking away from the deputy, Sam asked "So what do you think?

"Well, I think I'm glad that I didn't weird her out enough that she ran off and quit her job."

"I'm serious Dean."

"So am I." Dean said, turning to look at Sam. "So now what?"

Pulling the EMF detector out of his pocket slightly, Sam looked at the quiet contraption with a look of frustration. "No EMF readings, so no ghost. No sulfur that I can see, but we are standing in a dirt parking lot, so who knows. No blood anywhere, no one saw or heard anything. I don't know. The only thing we have left is to take a look at where the bodies have been found. There's an industrial area out there where we might be able to find something."

"Don't you think the local cops would have checked it out already?"

"Yeah, probably. But if we are working on the assumption that this is a monster then we'll be looking for different things. If they didn't find any blood or anything linking it to the victims, there isn’t much for them to justify keeping too close of an eye on it. Besides, there's more than one building there and they probably don't have the man power to watch the place all the time."

"Sounds like a plan." Nodding, Dean lead the way back to the Impala.


	7. Chapter 7

Walking into the abandoned warehouse, Sam looked nervously at his brother. "I think we should split up."

"What?"

"This place is huge. It's the third building we've searched and we've still got one more. If we're going to find this woman before she's killed then we need to split up. We'll cover more ground faster that way. Then we can move on to the next building."

Dean, after a moment of thought, agreed with a silent nod, and the boys headed off in different directions.

Sam knew splitting up made Dean nervous; he wasn't the only one. But this was different. They were in the same building, not on opposite sides of town like the last two times. They could keep each other in ear shot in case something happened or they found the missing woman. "Please," Sam prayed. "Let us find her."

***

Dean was nervous. Everything about today was making him nervous. The dead people with no signs of monsters, the waitress's comments earlier and then her going missing. And now they were splitting up in an abandoned building that reminded Dean a little too much of the last time he had found himself alone in one. That hadn't turned out so bad, he was still on this side of the grass after all, but everything after that… No, he reminded himself, this was different. He wasn't here alone. All he had to do was shout and Sam would come running. In a way, that angered Dean. Here he was, a grown man, one of the best hunters in the world, and he was afraid to go into a dark building by himself. Jesus, what was next, was he going to start sleeping with a night light? 

***

Sam was seeing no signs of anyone being in here in some time. He could see dust as it floated on the dying sunlight coming from the grimy windows and covering the floor. It was quiet. He couldn't even hear Dean's footsteps anymore. Suddenly, something caught his eye. There seemed to be something moving under what he had originally thought was a pile of rags left over from partying teenagers or squatters looking to get out of the weather. As he crept closer, he pulled his gun, safety off but finger off the trigger. Inching forward a few steps, he recognized the waitress's uniform from earlier in the day. She was lying on her side, her face covered by her hair. She seemed to be unconscious.

Putting away his weapon, he hurriedly knelt down to lift her hair from her face, praying that it was her and that she was still alive. Not seeing any cuts on her face or neck, he breathed a sigh of relief. Looking back the way he had come he opened his mouth to shout to Dean that he had thankfully found her, but was surprised by a painful blow to the base of his skull. The world went black.

***

Dean was frustrated. He had looked everywhere and found nothing out of the ordinary. When he realized it was starting to get dark, he looked up and saw the sun was going down.  
If they were going to find this woman tonight, hopefully alive, they were going to have to stop by the car for flashlights before searching the next building. Dean made his way back to where they had split up and headed off in the direction his brother had taken.

Dean walked into a large, dark and grimy room that was sectioned off in several places by posts that ran from ceiling to floor. All of a sudden, the hairs on the back of his neck stood on end. "Sam!" Dean called in a loud whisper. Seeing was difficult in the muted light and he cursed again about the lack of a light. "Sammy!" Dean called again. There was no answer. 

Easing further into the room, weapon drawn and at the ready, sweeping his eyes from side to side to try and take everything in, he spotted him. Sam was slumped over on his side like he had fallen over while on his knees, his back to Dean. Stamping down the almost overwhelming urge to run to his brother's side, Dean continued his slow and cautious approach, taking in the scene in front of him. When he finally made it to Sam's side, he quickly holstered his gun, and reached to turn him over. Dean heaved a sign of relief to see him still breathing. 

Then pain. Darkness.


	8. Chapter 8

Darkness. Pain. 

Those were the first two things Dean was aware of as he regained consciousness. Confusion set in when he realized he couldn't move his hands. Groaning, Dean lifted his head and blinked open his eyes. He found himself looking down at his brother. Sam seemed to be tied to a chair a few feet in front of him. Trying to take a step forward and failing to do so, Dean looked down to see himself tied in a standing position to one of the posts in the room.

"Dean! Dean! Are you ok?" Sam called urgently.

"Yeah," Dean said groggily. "Yeah, I think so. What happened?"

"I don't know. I found the woman, the waitress from the diner, but when I got to her somebody knocked me out. When I woke up, she was gone, we were tied up and you were out cold. I've been trying to work the knot out or cut the ropes, but they're tight and I can't reach anything sharp enough to cut them."

"Shit. How long was I out?"

"I don't know. But I've been awake a few minutes."

"First things, first. We've got to get out of here. If the woman was alive when you saw her, she might not have long before they kill her, if she isn't dead already."

Hearing soft footsteps, the boys froze in their struggle to release themselves from their bonds. Dean could see a figure walking towards them from the shadows. When he was finally able to make out the waitress from the diner, he sighed with relief. Before he could say anything though, the woman said, "Hello Sweetie."

Sam couldn't see who it was, so he was confused about the change in Dean's expression. At those two words, Dean had gone from hopeful relief to frightened shock.

"You," was Dean's strangled response to the newcomer. Twisting in his chair to try to see who was behind him, he caught a glimpse of the red headed waitress from the diner.

"Yes me, and it looks like you brought the cavalry with you this time," the woman laughed.

Her words seem to shake Dean and he snarled, "You bitch!"

Sam turned to Dean with a puzzled look on his face. "Dean, what's going on?"

Coming around to stand in front of Sam she trailed a finger down the side of his face and replied, "Oh Sammy. A little slow on the uptake are we? Hasn't your big brother told you about all the fun we've been having?" At Sam's shocked expression, she turned to Dean and said, "Its not nice to keep secrets Dean." Glancing back at Sam she continued, "And there's definitely enough of me to go around." Speaking, as if to herself, she continued, "Or maybe he HAS told you about us, and that's why you've been sticking so close to his side. You didn't want to be left out again."

"Don't touch him!"

Turning her back to Sam she addressed Dean, "You don't like to share? Come on Dean, where's the fun in that?" Watching Dean's reaction, she lowered herself onto Sam's lap and leaned back against him suggestively. Sam, looking slightly panicked, tried to angle himself away from her but was stopped by the chair at his back.

Dean exploded into motion, struggling against the ropes binding him, snarling and hurling vile curses at the woman, all in a vain attempt to release himself.

The woman let out a low throaty laugh in response. "Fine. Have it your way. I'll be yours and yours alone," she replied as she rose from Sam. "But I do think it's only fair that if Sam doesn't get to join in, he should at least get to watch." Leaning down into Sam's face she asked, "What do you think Sam? Want to watch?"

"No!" Sam's response was immediate and filled with rage. Dean couldn't see what had happened, but whatever it was, was enough to wipe the confusion from Sam's face and replace it with cold fury. When she turned to Dean, he could see her eyes were solid black. "Too bad darling. I'm in charge here, so what I say goes."

As she took a step towards Dean, she pulled a small knife from her pocket. "NO!" Sam shouted again. "Wait! What do you want?"

The woman chuckled. "Nothing. I've got what I want right here. Just sit back and enjoy the show. I know I will."

Now standing toe to toe with Dean, the woman leaned close and inhaled deeply. "Mmmm…" she murmured as she nuzzled his neck. "You smell delicious." Flicking her tongue out she slowly licked his neck above his shirt collar. "Mmmm… And you taste just like I remember."

Oh God, Sam thought as all the pieces finally clicked into place. This wasn't just some demon terrorizing this town, it was THE demon. This had all been a set up. "How long?" Sam asked, trying to distract the woman.

"For as long as I want."

"No. I meant how long would you have gone on killing these people?"

"Oh. As long as it would have taken to get you here. I knew you'd hear about it sooner or later." Her voice dropped, "I'm just really glad it was sooner."

Dean closed his eyes as comprehension hit him. This had been a trap. She found a little town not too far from the bunker and started randomly killing people just to draw them out. How stupid could he be? And now Sam was mixed up in all this. 

Stepping back slightly the woman raised the knife to Dean's Adam apple and applied just the slightest pressure. At the touch of the blade, Dean's eyes flew open. "That's better. I want to see those pretty green eyes. I want you to watch too."

"Don't worry. I plan on watching you die a slow and painful death," Dean said through clenched teeth. 

She gasped and her eyes seemed to light up, a slow smile curving her lips, "That's right! You like it rough! I had almost forgotten." And at that she brought the knife straight down, cutting his shirt open and scoring his chest with one long laceration. 

Dean flinched from the suddenness of the pain. "STOP!" Sam cried out, the fear evident in his voice.

Pressing her body against him, chest to chest, hips to hips, the woman purred "Ohhh… Come on Dean. I love it when you talk dirty. Don't stop. Tell me more. Just what are you going to do with me?"

"Get. Off." 

Purposefully misunderstanding Dean the woman replied, "Yes, well, You have gone and gotten me all hot and bothered. I can only imagine the state you must be in. Whatever shall we do about that? Hmmm…? Don't worry Dean. I'll kiss it where it hurts." Stooping slightly, she began to press light kisses down the center of his chest where she had cut him. Dean tried to shift his body away from her mouth, but she seemed to be enjoying his struggles and continued to kiss and taunt him.

Dean felt defeated and he didn't know why. He'd been in worse - way worse - situations than this and had always been able to fight his way out. But this… Sam was right. This was different. There was nothing he could do or say to stop her. She didn't want to kill him, she wanted to torture him. In the most humiliating way that she could possibly think of. Turning his body against him, and making his brother watch. Oh God. He hoped she killed him when she was finished with him. How would he ever be able to look his brother in the face after this? He didn't want this, how in the world could anyone think that he did, but her touch was beginning to have an effect on him. 

Dean met Sam's eyes. "I'm sorry."

"Dean, no. It's ok. It's going to be ok. This isn't your fault."

Hearing Sam's remarks, the woman turned and stalked over to Sam. Pulling a length of cloth out of her pocket, she said, "You know. I started to do this earlier and changed my mind. Thought it would be more fun with a cheering audience. But no, you had to go and ruin it." She tied the cloth around Sam's mouth, effectively muting anything he might try to say.

Walking back to Dean she said, "He's wrong you know. This is all your fault. I got a taste of you and I just couldn't get enough." She brought her hands up on either side of Dean's neck,  
holding his head steady so she could look him in his eyes. "I tried to stay away." She began to run her hands down his shoulders, to his chest. "But I kept catching myself thinking of you." At this she tweaked his nipples, when they hardened she seemed delighted. "And I know you thought about me." Her hands slipped further down, passed his naval, and came to rest on his belt buckle.

"Please." Dean whispered hoarsely, "Stop. Don't do this."

"Don’t worry Dean. I'll make you feel better."

He closed his eyes and turned his head away as she worked his belt open. He could feel his face and neck heating up in shame and embarrassment as she opened the button on his jeans and slipped his zipper open. She leaned forward and started to trail licks and kisses down his throat. When she reached the pulse point in his neck, she lingered, nipping and sucking hard enough he knew it was going to leave a mark. His breath came in short strangled gasps of nervousness when she slipped her hand down the front of his boxers, finding and grasping his slowly hardening length.

He tried to shut it out. The sensations, the feelings. This wasn't happening. Not to him. This was all a bad dream and if he could just figure out a way to wake up, this would all be over with. But he couldn't. He could hear her moan against his ear and feel her stroke his heated flesh. 

And he could hear his brother. Sam was trying to yell at, plead with, and threaten the woman through the gag. At one point it even sounded like he had started to cry, but Dean didn't have the courage to open his eyes to see. That would mean that this wasn't a dream. It would mean that this really was happening. And his brother would know everything.

The woman suddenly shifted, jarring Dean out of his thoughts. His startled gaze met black eyes as she reached both hands around him and slipped them inside his jeans, gripping his ass. She raised them slightly, bringing them to his hips. His eyes widened in shock when he realized what she intended. "No. Don't." He pleaded, "Stop." She laughed and pushed at the top of jeans, sliding them down. She reached to capture his lips with her mouth, but he dodged his head, and she ended up kissing his jaw. She pushed again and he felt his jeans slide further down his body, past his partial erection until there was nothing left between him and her but the cold night air. He closed his eyes again as she began kissing down his chest once more, hands on his hips to steady them as he tried to sway away from her touch. 

He felt her kneel down in front of him and grasp him with her hand. He inhaled sharply at the intimate touch and begged once again. "Please. I'll do anything. Please. Just don't do this." His pleas fell on deaf ears as she leaned forward and wrapped her lips around him. "Oh God… God… Please…"

The woman smiled and twirled her tongue around the head of his cock. Dean moaned and jerked his hips, trying to fight the sensations and the reactions she was forcing from his body. She started a rhythm of stroking, sucking and bobbing that had Dean whipping his head from side to side and groaning. He could feel heat pooling low in his abdomen and tears forming beneath his closed eye lids. No. She could not be doing this to him. She could not make him do this. 

Her mouth was wet and tight on him. She hummed occasionally and the vibrations seemed to travel all the way up to the base of his skull. She reached up with her other hand to cup and roll his balls. Dean almost came undone.

The fire in his belly was an inferno now, and it felt like it would consume him. He could feel it spreading to his spine and knew it wouldn't be much longer. The woman never stopped, twirling and pushing with her tongue, sliding her lips up and down his shaft, creating just the right amount of friction to accomplish her goals. Dean was almost hyperventilating now, trying his hardest to stave off the inevitable. He began to grunt softly in time with her movements. He bucked his hips once. Twice. The third time, he exploded.

She continued for a few seconds more, milking him with her mouth and swallowing all he had to give her. When he sagged against his restraints, utterly spent, she stood and pulled his jeans over his hips, but leaving everything undone. She whispered in his ear, "Later Lover", snapped her fingers and disappeared.


	9. Chapter 9

At the snap, the bonds holding the brothers in their respective prisons, disappeared. Dean fell forward onto his knees and collapsed onto the ground not even trying to break his own fall. Sam was there in an instant to catch him, struggling to hold on to him as Dean tried to turn away from him and curl up into a ball on the floor.

"Dean! Oh God. Dean! Look at me!" Dean could hear his brother shouting at him, but he couldn't look. Dean felt revulsion down to his bones; he didn't want to see it on Sam's face too.

"Cas!" Sam shouted "Where are you?! CAS! Oh God, Cas, you've got to find us. We need you," Sam said, his voice breaking.

With the sound of wings, Castiel appeared. Striding across the room he said to Sam, "I'm sorry I wasn't here sooner. I could hear you calling but couldn't find you. I got - "

"Cas," Sam said interrupting him, "we need to get to the bunker."

"What's wrong? Is Dean injured?"

"Yes, but first we need to get to the bunker. Now. Please, Cas."

"Very well." Cas stretched out his hands and grasped both men by the shoulders. Instantly, they found themselves in the main room of the bunker, still in the same positions as before; Dean curled into himself and Sam holding on to him for dear life.

"Sam, what happened?" Cas asked.

"Hold on Cas," Sam answered. "Dean? Dean, you need to look at me. Please. Let me know you're ok."

The emotion in Sam's voice cut through the fog in Dean's brain. He didn’t sound disgusted, he sounded worried. Using what felt like monumental strength, he opened his eyes and looked Sam in the face. The look of love and concern he saw there, broke him. He felt the tears he had been holding in slip down his face. "Sam - I'm - I'm sorry."

"No, Dean. Don't. Don't apologize, You did nothing wrong. You hear me? Nothing."

"But she… I - "

"Stop. No. I'm not blaming you. For anything. No one is or will," at these words he shot a pointed look at Cas, "blame you. Ok? We're going to get up and walk to the shower room. Do you think you can do that?" 

Clearing his throat that was suddenly clogged with emotion, he answered, "Yeah. I can do that."

"Ok. Sit up. Nice and slow. Easy does it."

Sam noticed Dean's face flush scarlet as he sat up. Worried that he was hurt, he started to say something, then realized what the problem was. Dean's jeans were still undone. When Dean started to fumble with the belt and closures, embarrassed but knowing he couldn't stand up with out doing them, Castiel snapped his fingers and they were secured. Unfortunately, the snap startled Dean and he flinched away from both of them. 

"Hey. It's ok. Dean. It's ok. Let's just get you on your feet."

Rising slowly, and leaning on Sam way more than he wanted to, Dean managed to get to his feet. Standing there swaying, he started to feel nauseated. Putting a hand out to steady himself, he felt the solid chest of Cas in front of him. He closed his eyes and held his breath until the feeling subsided.

"Better?" Cas asked

"Yeah. Thanks." Dean said opening his eyes again.

"Ok. One foot in front of the other. Nice and slow."

With Dean leaning on Sam for support, they shuffled down the hall towards the showers. When they got to the shower room, Dean pushed away from Sam and said "I think I can handle it from here."

"You sure?" 

"Don't you think you've seen enough of me today? For Christ's sake, Sam, let me have a little bit of privacy!" Dean answered angrily.

Holding his hands up in an 'I surrender' gesture, Sam said, "Ok. Just… let me know if you need anything," He turned and left the room.

Dean waited until he heard Sam's footsteps walking down the hall to move. He turned to the taps and started the hot water. Kicking off his shoes, he tossed them by the door, followed by his socks. Barefoot, he began to take his shirt off, or what was left of it anyway. His shoulders were sore from the restraints and him struggling against them, but since his shirt was in tatters from where the demon had sliced it, it didn't take much to remove it. Last to be added to the pile were his jeans and boxers. Stepping under the spray, he let the water just roll over him, halfheartedly praying he would drown in it.

***

Sam walked back into the main room and was startled to see Cas. "Oh, hey Cas. I forgot you were still here," he said as he lowered himself into a chair.

Head tilted, with a confused expression on his face Cas asked, "Why would Dean be praying to be drowned in the shower?"

"WHAT?!" Sam exclaimed, jumping up to rush down the hallway.

"No, I don’t think there is serious intent behind it. And even if there was, I would never do that to him. I just thought it was an odd thing for him to be praying for."

Leaning both hands on the table, Sam asked brokenly, "He's… praying… he can drown… in the shower?"

"Yes."

Sighing heavily Sam said, "Oh, Cas. What are we going to do?"

"You can start with telling me what happened tonight."

"I... don’t even know where to start."

"The beginning is usually helpful."

***

Dean could feel the water turning cold, but couldn't find the strength to pull himself up off the floor to turn it off. He had slid down the wall to sit with his knees pulled up to his chest with his face covered by his hands. Only when he could feel himself start to shake and his teeth chatter, did he try. He reached up and pulled the lever to the off position, but continued sitting where he was. Finally, he pulled himself to his feet and looked around. Sometime while he was in the shower, Sam had taken away his torn and dirty clothes and left him a towel along with some sweatpants and a t-shirt. Pulling them on without bothering to dry off, he walked to one of the sinks. Wiping the condensation from the mirror with his hand, he stared at himself. A pale face with red, swollen eyes looked back at him and he said to his reflection, "You look like shit." Deciding that he couldn't hide in here forever, and feeling like he was asleep on his feet, he left the room and headed to his bedroom. 

He was met in the hall by Sam. "Hey. I heard the shower stop and wanted to make sure you found the clothes I left you."

Looking down at himself and then back to Sam, Dean gave a rueful smile and said, "Yep. I found them."

"Do you want something to eat?" Sam asked. 

With a shake of his head, Dean answered, "Not really Sammy."

"You should try to eat something," Sam countered "It will make you feel better."

"I don't think food is going to help," Dean muttered to himself. 

"What?" Sam asked. 

Looking at Sam's face, knowing he was just trying to help, Dean relented. "Ok. I'll try. But I'm really not hungry." 

With a sigh of relief, Sam turned and headed toward the kitchen, with Dean following.

When they got to the kitchen, Cas was standing there as if waiting for orders. "What do you feel like? Burger? Sandwich? Soup?" 

"Really, Sammy? Soup? What do I look like? A kid? What good is soup going to do me?"

"No, you don't look like a kid, you look like shit. I was thinking soup would put something in your stomach without making you want to throw up again." 

Realizing he was taking his frustrations out on Sam, he said, "Ok. Fine. Soup sounds good." 

As soon as the words had left his mouth, Cas was gone. A breath later, he had returned holding what looked like a take out bag from that fancy soup and sandwich place Sam liked so much.

"Thanks," Sam said, taking the bag from Cas. 

"Your welcome." 

Pulling up a stool Sam sat down. Looking inside the bag he said, "Looks like you got the choice between French Onion and Broccoli Cheddar."

"French Onion." 

Taking the container from Sam, Dean leaned down to reach under the cabinet and came up with a whisky bottle. Opening it, he poured a liberal amount into his soup and sat down to eat. 

After a few minutes of eating in silence, Cas began to speak, "Dean - " 

Dean, without looking up from his bowl, interrupted, "No."

"I was only going to - " 

"No."

Sighing, Cas barreled on, "Would you like me to heal the wound on your chest?" 

Dean was furious. It was bad enough that Sam had seen what had gone on, but obviously he had decided to share the news with Cas. He supposed that Cas deserved some sort of explanation as to what had gone on before Sam called him, but my God, was nothing private anymore? He knew Cas was trying to help, but he didn't want anyone else touching him right now, not even to help. Trying to keep a tight grip on his anger, all Dean could say was the one thing he felt he had been saying all day, but that no one had listened to. "No."

"But - " 

"I SAID NO!" Dean screamed as he stood abruptly and swept his arms along the table, shoving everything onto the floor.

Sam and Cas just looked at him, shocked at his outburst. Dean, breathing heavily, looked at their faces and said again, quieter, "I said no." 

And then he crumpled. Sam could almost literally see Dean fold in on himself. He was around the table in no time and grabbed Dean by his shoulders to get him to look him in the face. When Dean found Sam in front of him, all he could think about was making sure that his brother knew that he had not wanted what had happened earlier, but the only thing he could say was "I said no." over and over again. 

Sam pulled Dean into his chest and held him, repeating, "I know. It's going to be ok. I know." 

After a few moments Sam looked at Cas across the counter and said, "Dean, maybe you should sleep now. We can talk about this in the morning." 

When there was no response from his brother, Sam gave Cas a slight nod. Cas reached over with two fingers and touched Dean on the forehead, and he slumped immediately into sleep.


	10. Chapter 10

The calm before the storm. That's all that Sam could think to call it. Before he had allowed himself to shower and sleep after getting Dean into bed the night before, he had asked Cas to help him gather their things from the motel and driven the Impala back to the bunker. Now, he was sitting at one of the tables in the library, staring blankly at his computer, just waiting for the explosion that he knew was coming. Dean had been quiet all day and Sam didn't know what to say or how to approach him. They needed to talk, whether Dean wanted to or not, if he was ever going to be able to heal and get past this. 

"Hey." Sam was jerked out of his thoughts by the sound of Dean's voice.

"Hey. What's up?"

"You forget your password or something?"

"What?" Looking down at the screen in front him, Sam realized it was still on the home screen. "Uh, no. Just thinking."

"Well be careful or you might set off the smoke detectors in here."

"Ha. Ha."

"Wait. Do we have smoke detectors?"

"Um. I have no idea."

"Huh. Ok. I'll be in my room if you need me. Just came out for a refill," Dean said, lifting the bottle in his hand to show Sam.

"Do you really think that's a good idea?"

"Actually, I think it's a great idea. It's 5 o'clock somewhere, right?"

"Dean, I think we need to talk about last night." Seeing Dean's face darken, Sam thought 'Here it comes.'

"Nothing to talk about Sammy. OK?" Dean replied as he turned to walk out of the room.

"No, it's not ok, Dean. What happened - "

Stopping short, but not facing Sam, Dean interrupted, "Happened, Sammy. End of story." Sighing, he said, "Just give me a break. I'm taking the day off. I think we could both use it."

Watching Dean walk out of the room, Sam's heart was broken. He hadn't seen Dean like this in a while, and it worried him. Though, if you were to ask Cas, he would say worrying was just a part of his personality. Maybe it was, but no one else seemed to be worried, so it felt like the right thing to do. Glancing back at his computer, he settled in to do what he could do, what he was good at, research.

***

Eyes blurry from staring at the screen for so long and his head a jumble of facts and figures, Sam looked up as he heard someone in the hall. It was Dean, and he looked about as good as Sam felt.

"Don't mind me. Just passing through," Dean said.

Sam watched him shuffle past and into the kitchen without a word. He sat there listening as Dean rummaged around, looking for something to eat and probably coming up with nothing. They hadn't been to the store for a few days before the last case, and neither had left since being back, so as the nursery rhyme went, the cupboards were bare. The kitchen went quiet and in a moment Dean reappeared, empty handed as Sam had thought. 

"Nothing in there I want. Just rabbit food that even I wouldn't feed to a rabbit. I'm going to the store."

"I'll go with you," Sam replied, rising from the chair he was in.

"I don't need a babysitter, Sam."

I know, but it's my turn to buy." 

"No worries, you can get it next time." And with that, Dean was gone again.

***

Dean really had been headed to the grocery store, but when he saw the bar, he found himself pulling in to the lot around back. The place wasn't packed, but had enough people in it that he could sit at the bar and drink without feeling like he was alone in the place. Or that someone was always watching, like at the bunker. He knew Sam meant well, but he just couldn't take the puppy dog eyes and worried glances anymore. The brunette that slid onto the stool next to him was cute. She was petite with angular features, a pixie haircut and a short skirt that road high on her thighs as she took her seat. Dean gave an appreciative glance in her direction before turning back to his drink. 

It wasn’t long though, before they had struck up a conversation. Nothing serious, just your normal bar stool banter. She was flirty and fun and before he knew it, she leaned over and said, "Why don't we get out of here?" Laying some money on the bar Dean stood and walked to the door, leading the way outside.

When they got to the car, Dean pushed her against it and kissed her. When they began to pull at each other's clothes, he reached behind her and opened the back door. Laughing, she crawled inside and stretched out on the back seat. Climbing in behind her and closing the door, he knelt on the seat and pulled his jacket off. Reaching up she grabbed for his shirt to undo the buttons, but only got a couple undone before noticing the scratch that ran the length of his chest. "Oh my gosh. What happened?" she whispered. 

Confused, he looked down to see what she meant. Seeing the mark the demon had left, he shook his head saying, "Nothing you need to worry about." Instead of spoiling the mood, it seemed to fuel Dean's intentions even more. Leaning forward he stretched out on top of the girl, propping himself up on his elbows. Determined  
to distract her, he captured her lips in a searing kiss, only breaking apart when they were both gasping for air. 

He reached between them and slid his hand up her leg. Slowly, from her knee to her thigh, he trailed his hand higher as he caressed her neck with his tongue and mouth. Finally reaching his destination, he felt the satin of her panties and heard her hitch her breath and moan in excitement. Pushing them to the side, he began to stroke her, sliding his fingers up and down her slit, looking for just the right button to press to make her come undone for him. Feeling her widen her legs to give him better access, he smiled to himself. 

"You have on too many clothes," she breathed as she reached to pull his shirt out of his jeans. 

Hooking his fingers in her panties he gave them a tug, "So do you," he replied. 

Pulling himself up to his knees he quickly undid his belt and jeans, pushing them down to release his erection. The girl shimmied out of her panties and dropped them to the floor. Pulling her to him, Dean positioned himself at her entrance and rocked forward to push into her. Wrapping her legs around his waist, he leaned forward, holding on to the back of the seat as he began to move in and out of her. Slowly at first, but faster as she began to thrust upwards onto him. The little gasps and mewling sounds she began to make was like throwing gasoline on a fire and Dean picked up his pace. Gripping her small hips in his large hands, he pounded her into the cushioned seat. 

"Oh. You’re so tight," he groaned. "Come for me, baby. I'm not going to last much longer. You've got to come for me." Hearing this, the girl shifted one of her hands from Dean's arm down to her clit. As she began to massage the little nub of flesh hidden between her folds, Dean growled in satisfaction. 

Hearing her moan with pleasure and feeling her thrusts become more and more frantic as she approached orgasm, was almost more than he could stand. He closed his eyes and willed himself to hold on. When he felt her muscles clamp down on him and her body go rigid, Dean let himself go. With a hoarse bark and a final thrust of his hips, he allowed himself to come, reveling in the feeling of release that pumping into her slick tightness gave him. 

Letting go of her hips, he leaned forward onto his hands to catch his breath. Opening his eyes, he found himself looking at a smiling, sated woman. "That… was amazing," She whispered. "Who knew sex in a car could be so good?"

Smirking, he sat upright, tucking in his shirt and redoing his jeans and belt in the process. Reaching around him, he opened the car door and backed out. Partially closing the door to give her a little privacy while she righted her clothes, Dean leaned against the car and took in a deep breath of cold air. He felt invigorated. For some reason, he felt like a weight had been lifted off his shoulders. Hearing the familiar creak of the door, he watched as the girl got out of the car. Running her fingersthrough her short hair she looked at Dean. "If you decide you want to make this into a thing, you know where to find me," she said as leaned in to kiss him lightly on his lips. And with a backwards glance and a smile, she walked away.

***

Sam was picking up the phone to call Dean when he heard the bunker door open. Looking up he was relieved to see Dean coming down the stairs carrying a couple of plastic bags. He met him at the bottom step, reaching to grab one of the bags from him and stopped. Taking in his rumpled clothes he asked, "Everything ok?"

"Fine and dandy, Sam," Dean replied, brushing passed him. 

Following him to the kitchen Sam said, "What took you so long?"

"What are you talking about?" Dean answered. 

Sam knew when Dean was trying to deflect and he wasn't going to let him do it this time. "You smell like a bar and sex. Where have you been?" 

"Well, as a matter of fact, I have been to a bar and I had sex," Dean responded, laughing at the bitch face Sam pulled. "Anything else you want to know?" 

"Why… How… " Sam sputtered.

"Because I wanted to. And if I need to tell you how, little brother, you've been doing something wrong all these years." 

"Dean, I'm serious." 

Looking at Sam with an amused expression, Dean replied "So am I Sammy."

"Look. Picking up random girls at bars and drinking yourself into a stupor isn’t going to solve anything." 

"Who said I was trying to solve anything? I wanted a drink without you breathing down my neck and took a cute girl up on her offer. Simple as that. I have no problems that I haven't already been able to solve tonight. Especially since I also brought back some real food." 

"There is a problem, Dean. Your problem." 

"Oh yeah? And what would my problem be?"

"You were RAPED!" Sam finally exploded in frustration. 

The boys stood looking at each other in stunned silence, Sam's final word hanging in the air. Dean turned abruptly and stalked out of the room. 

"Dean!" Sam called, "Wait!" 

But Dean didn't stop. Sam ran after him, grabbed him by his arm and pulled him around so they were facing each other. What he didn't expect was the fist that came flying at him, connecting with his chin, knocking him to the ground. 

"What the hell, Dean?" Sam asked, looking up at Dean from the floor.

Saying nothing, Dean turned to leave again. Sam scrambled to his feet, angry now. "Don’t walk away from me Dean!" Sam yelled. 

"Watch me," was Dean's only reply.

Lunging at Dean, Sam pushed him to the ground. 

"Leave me alone, little brother," Dean said, picking himself up "I don’t want to hurt you."

"Yeah, that's right Dean. That's an awesome way to deal with things. Drinking, fucking or fighting, that cures everything." 

"Well it sure as hell beats sitting around this place moping like someone ran over your dog!"

The next thing Dean knew, Sam's fist connected with his face, whipping his head to the side and sending him staggering back a step. Bringing his hand up to his mouth, he gingerly touched his lip. Seeing blood on his fingers he glared at Sam. "Watch your self Sammy. You're the one that seems to be itching for a fight here. We're even. One for one. Just walk away." 

"You'd like it if I did that, wouldn't you, Dean? Just walk away, again, and not deal with what's going on in front of us. Put my blinders on and let you walk straight into some shit hole so deep, you won't be able to climb back out again. And then, then Dean, is when you'll want to talk to me. That's when you'll want my help. When it's too damn late. No. Too bad. I'm not going stand by and watch you kill yourself with booze or women or whatever monster we end up facing next." 

"Leave it alone, Sam." 

"I can't Dean. I can't leave this alone. You need to talk about it."

"Maybe I don't want to talk, Sammy," Dean yelled. "Ever thought about that?" 

"I don't care!" Sam yelled back. "I don't care if you want to talk or not Dean. You need to! WE need to! Do you have any idea what it felt like to watch my big brother, the one person I love more than anything in this world, be attacked by a demon, and not be able to do anything about it?!!" 

"No, I don’t Sammy. But you have no idea how *I* felt. Standing there, helpless, being made to… do things… and have my little brother, who *I* love more than anything, watch! It was bad enough that it happened in the first place, but to have you know about it? To have you witness it? No. I don't think you have any idea how that feels. And I pray that you never do."

And with that, Dean walked out of the room, leaving Sam standing where he was.


	11. Chapter 11

Sam had thought a case would help things. Instead, he was beginning to think it was only hurting them. It was supposed to be an easy salt and burn. Yeah it was a few too many miles for such a simple case, but instead of passing it off to another hunter, Sam had suggested they take it. Dean jumped at the chance, no questions asked. Though, he hadn’t been asking too many questions lately. 

After the fight they'd had, Dean hadn't much to say to Sam at all, and Sam felt terrible about it. After all the research he had done, all the articles he had read, he should have known better. They all said the same thing. Don't push. Be supportive. Let your loved one know you will be there when they need to talk, but let them be the one to instigate. And what had he gone and done? Gotten so angry with Dean that he pushed and pushed until they had started hitting each other. It wasn't the first time. Hell, it wasn't even the worst time. Still, Sam should have known better. But he was afraid that if he just let it go and waited on Dean to talk, he never would. He certainly couldn't tell him he needed to see a counselor. He would never go for it. Besides, who could he tell? It wasn't like there was a shrink for hunters. It was times like this, he really missed Bobby. If no one else, he would have known just what to do or say to get Dean's head on straight again.

So, Sam had found an easy case to get them out of the bunker and back to work. Sam hadn’t realized how much Dean wasn't sleeping, though. Even when he managed to fall asleep, he was tossing, turning and moaning, until he jerked himself awake again. Dean never complained and Sam never mentioned it, but he could see it taking more and more of a toll on him everyday. So much so, that during this latest "easy" case, Dean's slow reactions had almost gotten him killed. It had been a rookie mistake, and even Dean knew it, but all he had done was nod his thanks and head back to the car.

Now, they were back in the motel room and Sam was lying awake, listening to his brother in the middle of another nightmare. 

***

Someone was chasing him. Or some thing. Stopping to look around him, Dean realized he was in the woods. Purgatory? No. There he had been scared but strong. There it had been simple, kill or be killed. Here… here he felt scared. And weak. Hearing a noise behind him, he took off at a run again. Branches slapping him in the face, jumping over roots that seemed to reach up to grab his ankles. Tripping over something unseen, Dean landed on all fours, gasping for air. Over the roar of his heart beat, he heard a voice "Hello Sweetie."

Jolting upright in bed, Dean looked around in confusion. It was dark, but he wasn't in the woods anymore. 

"Dean?"

At the sound of Sam's sleepy question, Dean was finally able to recognize where he was. "It's all right Sam. I'm fine. Go back to sleep."

"You have another nightmare?"

Dean didn't know what to say. The fact that Sam had asked whether he'd had *another* nightmare, made Dean realize he hadn’t been as good at hiding them as he had thought.

"Something like that."

"You want to talk about it?"

Trying to slow his racing heart, Dean began to speak.

"I was in the woods. I thought it was Purgatory, but it didn't feel the same. Someone, or something, was chasing me, but… I was scared. I felt like I had been running forever and I just knew they were going to catch me this time. I didn’t know what I was going to do when they did; I had no weapons. So I kept running… But I was… so tired. And… every time I ran, I fell. Something would slap me down, or grab me or I tripped." Scrubbing his face with his hands Dean said, "God, that sounds so childish."

Sam was awake, but not wanting to disturb Dean, he stayed where he was on the bed, keeping his back to his brother. "That doesn't sound childish to me. It sounds like your brain's way of working through the trauma you've been through," Sam said softly.

"Trauma. Ok, thanks Dr. Phil."

"I'm serious, Dean. You've had some serious shit thrown your way. You might not acknowledge it when you're awake, but it's still there. You still have to deal with it one way or another."

"Yeah," Dean replied quietly. "Maybe you're right. I thought I could just push past this. Whatever this is. I thought with enough time and distance, it would just go away. Now sometimes I feel like I'm losing my mind. I'm jumpy at things I shouldn't be. Too slow to react to other things. It's like I'm walking in a fog. Just going through the motions. Sometimes… Sometimes I just wish it would all be over, you know? Just… for this to all be gone. I can't erase it from my memory, no matter how hard I try. What am I going to do Sam?" Dean whispered. "Nothing I do makes a difference. Nothing I do changes anything. Not what happened, not what I did, nothing."

Sam was glad for the darkness. Not only was it giving Dean the courage to say things he normally wouldn't but it was hiding Sam's brokenhearted expression. "Dean. You didn't do anything wrong. It wasn't your fault. You've got to know that."

"If I wasn't willing, then she wouldn't have been able… "

Finally turning his head to look at Dean, Sam said, "No. That's not true. Just because she could *make* you do something, doesn't mean you wanted it."

Dean reached up and wiped his eyes with his hand. Sam realized that Dean had tears running down his face. "I don’t know if that makes me feel better or worse. Cuz either I was a willing participant or she was able to play me like a fiddle."

Sam took a deep breath. He knew his next words would probably hurt, would tear open wounds that were just beginning to heal, but he had to make Dean understand. "Dean. I saw what happened." Dean closed his eyes. "I know that's hard for you to hear, to remember. But I what I saw, wasn't a willing person, or - " Sam barreled on when Dean opened his mouth, "or you being played like a fiddle. What I saw was torture. Plain and simple. When someone puts a knife to your throat and the fear for the life of a loved one in your face and they make you do something you don’t want to do, just because they get off on it, that’s torture. That's what happened that night. Hell, that's what happened all three nights."

After a few moments of silence, Sam continued. "Look, I know I can't make this better. I know I can't make this just all go away. God, how I wish I could. But… I just want you to know that you can talk to me. I'll be here to listen. No matter what. No judgments. No shame. No embarrassment. Nothing. Ok?"

"Yeah. Ok."

Sam sighed in relief when he heard those two quiet words from his brother. He didn't know if he would ever open up to him, but at least Dean knew he would be there when or if he decided to.


	12. Chapter 12

Healing was a slow process, and Dean wasn't good at doing slow. After talking with Sam that night in the motel room, he had felt better. He had even managed to get a decent night's rest, or what had been left of it. He had sat there thinking, even after he heard Sam's breath even out into sleep. He finally admitted to himself that Sam was right. He couldn't move on and move past this, if he was living in the past. So he began to actually pay attention to what was going on around him. He found he could enjoy the feeling of the sun on his face, or the smell of the Impala after it was freshly detailed, or the sound of Sam's laughter. God, it seemed like forever since he had heard him laugh and was actually able to join in. 

He still felt restless most nights, but sleep was coming a little easier; the nightmares less and less frequent. But sometimes he just couldn’t seem to quiet his mind enough to sleep. He'd pace his room, or clean his guns or just wander around the bunker until his legs were tired, but he still couldn't drift off. 

His first thought had been to grab a whiskey, and that had worked for a while, but he had begun to hate waking every morning to a hangover and Sam's worried face was beginning to present itself more and more. Mainly that pissed Dean off. Hey. He was trying, wasn't he? He was doing the best he could and he seemed to think he was doing a pretty damn good job of it too. 

One morning, Sam mentioned his nightly wanderings and Dean confessed that he just couldn't get to sleep and the only thing that seemed to help was getting drunk and passing out. Sam told him that exercise usually worked for him but Dean had just laughed at him. He could just see himself in spandex shorts and headband running around in the middle of the night like some crazy person. No thanks. 

A few weeks later, on yet another one of his late night rounds of the bunker with his trusted whiskey in hand, Dean walked into one of the many store rooms they had yet to fully go through and was surprised at what he found. There, hanging in the middle of the room, was a heavy bag. On the floor under it was a plain brown box with his name on it. Sitting his glass down on a nearby shelf, he opened the box to find a pair of boxing gloves and a roll of athletic tape inside. Overwhelmed by the thoughtfulness of the gift, he slipped them on and gave a few light punches to the bag. Shoving the box to the side with his foot, he squared off with the bag and attempted a few more meaningful jabs. Before he knew it, he had been bobbing and weaving for more than an hour. Dripping sweat and exhausted he slipped the gloves off, tied the laces together loosely, and slung them over the bag. He picked up his glass and turned the lights off as he left the room, feeling like he might actually be able to sleep now.

Dean never mentioned the heavy bag and Sam was beginning to wonder if he would ever find it. He didn't want to make a big deal out of it, but he did want to make sure Dean used it if he wanted to. Gradually, Sam noticed that Dean was waking up with a hangover less and less. He had also seen him bring home a couple of pairs of athletic shorts and a few rolls of tape after a run to the store. Satisfied, Sam let it go. He knew Dean would work out his demons in his own way and in his own time.


End file.
